


Yes

by annalexandria124, Ravenclaw41



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Burn, in the form of a kitten, literal fluff, seriously, smuttywerbenjaegermanjensen, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7039174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalexandria124/pseuds/annalexandria124, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenclaw41/pseuds/Ravenclaw41
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After getting a brand new prosthetic thanks to one Tony Stark, Bucky is unsure of his new found strength.  Steve can't stand to see him hurt and tries his hardest to help comfort him, finally coming to an unconventional but extremely adorable solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The plot for this story was decided whilst eating brownie batter and binge-watching Marvel movies, and as a result the first part was written whilst sleep deprived and a little bit on a Monster/sugar rush so it may be a little rough. Constructive criticism is welcomed, and comments are always happily accepted. We hope you enjoy!

Two months after being defrosted, Bucky still wasn’t sure it was such a great idea. T’Challa and his team in Wakanda had developed technology in the time he was frozen that fixed his brain, freeing him from any form of control Hydra had implanted, but unfortunately he was still left with the memories of all the things he did while working as the world’s greatest assassin, often waking from nightmares as a result.

Steve was always there, every night he woke screaming. It was no different from the way Bucky woke Steve when he was sick and whimpering in his sleep from dreams caused by the fever. Eventually it got to the point where Steve fell asleep in his own bed and woke on a pallet of blankets on the floor beside Bucky’s- every night like clockwork. It was rare for it to be considered a “good” night, where Bucky only needed waking once. Most of the time, Steve had to coax him out of the nightmares multiple times, and both woke with bloodshot eyes complemented by dark circles beneath them. Bucky often protested Steve’s method of sleeping in the same room: “Honestly, Steve, it’s okay. The dreams aren’t even that bad.” He lied, blatantly obvious to the blond.

“So that’s why I have to wake you up in the middle of the night to keep you from hurting yourself?” Steve replied, though it came out more bitter than he’d intended. “Shit, Buck, I didn’t-“

“No, you’re right. My brain’s fucked up, Steve. Every night I wake you up, I steal your sleep from you. I told you freezing me was the right thing to do. All I do is cause pain.” Bucky said, his expression hard and voice rough.

“Bucky-“ Steve tried, though the brunet was already making his way for the door. “Buck-“

It was too late; Bucky had already left. He needed some time to think, to get away.

Climbing up a fire escape with only one arm would seem to be difficult, but for a supersoldier who spent the first parts of his “conditioning” functioning with only one arm (he learned quickly- if he failed to complete the task assigned he would be punished), it was easy.

He sat on top of the building, letting the cold February air whip through his long hair and thin jacket, the empty sleeve waving in the wind. He was certain Steve knew where he went, considering it’s where he went every time he needed to cool off, but the stupid blond was smart enough to know not to disturb him. After the first incident where he tried to come up and almost got a knife through the eyeball, he left it alone.

Bucky didn’t want this. He was almost hoping that once he’d been frozen, something would go wrong and he just wouldn’t wake up. What felt like seconds to him was nine months in reality. Stark had gotten over the grudge he’d held against Barnes and had even started developing a new arm as a sort of apology for melting it off in the first place. Bucky still felt the blinding pain of the synthetic nerves burning, what was left of his flesh and blood arm being vaporized with the metal. It was nothing different from what he’d felt during his stay with Hydra, but still left him grimacing and groping for the empty space where the arm used to be. Tony had called him just three days ago, telling him it was almost ready and that a surgeon by the name of Helen Cho was to accompany Stark and Banner in the surgery two days from the present.

Bucky waited until the cold numbed his face and he could hardly feel his fingers clenched around the metal pole of the ladder. Without realizing it, he bent the metal, crushing it like it was nothing.

 _I can’t even control my own strength. Maybe it’s best I don’t have the other one anymore._ He thought bitterly.

After sneaking back in, Steve having “gone to bed” (Bucky could hear his uneven breathing, hitched by muffled sobs), he made himself a hot cup of tea to help warm himself from the inside, yet it wasn’t for him. Bucky had made Steve’s favorite tea and carried it carefully to the blond’s bedroom, trying to figure out on his way there how he was going to open the door when his only hand was occupied. It was unnecessarily complicated and difficult, but Bucky managed without spilling the tea.

He’d heard Steve take a deep breath and knew he’d wiped his face free from tears when Bucky entered, a sheepish look on his face.

“I made you tea,” he said quietly, holding the mug out for Steve to take.

“You didn’t have to do that, Buck.” Steve replied, though he accepted the offer. When his fingers lightly brushed over Bucky’s to take it, he muttered, “Jesus, Buck, you’re freezing.”

Bucky remained silent, instead tucking his hand into his jacket pocket.

A silent moment passed, in which Steve took a small sip of the tea. Bucky’d made it just the way he liked it- right amount of sugar, steeped just long enough. He could tell by the content, slightly softened look on Steve’s face that he’d finally done something right.

“Look, what I said earlier…” the blond began.

“It wasn’t you.” Bucky said firmly. It was obvious Steve didn’t believe it by the way he averted his gaze to the floor. “Hey, look at me.” The brunet ordered. Steve did. “It wasn’t you. It was me, I overreacted. I promise it has nothing to do with you, Stevie.”

A small, sad grin formed on the blond’s lips, and before either could say anything else, he stood from his place on the bed and captured Bucky in an awkward hug.

“I’m sorry, Buck.” He said, though Bucky knew it wasn’t just for what happened that night.

“I’m sorry too, Stevie.”

Even though Bucky still woke him up late that night, it was okay.

\---

Two days later, he had a brand new arm attached to where the old, painful one had been. The difference was incredible- he hadn’t realized how much pain the old one had caused until it was finally gone. The new one was lighter, more efficient.

“It’s twice as strong as the other arm, both in terms of dexterity and damage capacity. It’s a hell of a lot lighter than the other one too. The way the other one had been attached, I’m surprised you were even able to function.” Tony said. He’d mostly forgiven Bucky for what happened, coming to the realization that it was the Winter Soldier who had done it and not the man who was sitting in front of him. Bucky had a feeling that seeing exactly what they’d done to his body was more of a shock than anything, based on how Stark was acting.

“Thank you, Tony.” Bucky muttered quietly, his voice rough from the intubation tube they’d been forced to stick down his throat. The stuff they used to keep him calm also put him in what Dr. Cho described as a vegetative state. He wasn’t able to breathe on his own due to it, though it also kept him from feeling pain. Thankfully, they’d inserted the tube after he’d been out and removed it before he woke, avoiding any more triggers than had already been dealt with in the surgical theater.

“No problem, RoboCop. Enjoy.” Stark replied, lightly tapping the metal shoulder with his knuckles as he wiped off a few tools and placed them in drawers.

Bucky had to admit, it felt so much better than the other arm, almost like a feather compared to the weight he was forced to bear before. He stumbled a bit after the surgery, both from the drugs still exiting his system and the difference in weight. That part was easy to adjust to. It was the new strength of the arm that was the problem.

On his way out of the tower, he broke four door handles, crushed the railing in the elevator, and when he tripped, still unsteady, he cracked the marble floor of the lobby.

He’d apologized profusely for the damage and promised he’d find a way to pay for it (though he knew everything in the Avengers Tower was crazy expensive and he wouldn’t be surprised if the damage done was worth at least ten thousand), Tony insisting it was okay and no trouble. He and Dr. Banner told him it would take some getting used to. They’d done some tests in the lab after the surgery, but Bucky had been a little more out of it then and was fuzzy on the details. He did remember, however, their instructions to use the metal appendage as much as possible to get used to the difference.

By the time the car Stark had ready out front had gotten him home, Bucky was ready to drop. He was afraid to open the door to his shared home with Steve, even with his flesh hand. He felt all he did was damage.

“Would you like me to open that for you, sir?” The driver asked through the rolled down passenger window.

“No, it’s okay. Th-thank you though.” Bucky replied.

“My pleasure.” The driver said, rolling up the window. Bucky knew he was waiting for him to get inside before driving off, and made a decision to hurry up and get it over with. He reached forward with his flesh hand before remembering Stark and Banner’s words and exchanging it for the metal. This new one felt temperature _and_ pressure, where the old one had only given him a vague sense of pressure to help him gauge his actions. Tony’d explained the temperature sensor could easily be shut off on missions where cold was an issue. He said it was “so easy even Rogers could do it.”

“Bucky?” Steve called from inside when the door had been pushed open just an inch.

“Yeah, ‘s me.” Bucky replied, turning and giving a small wave over his shoulder to the driver before the black car drove away. He carefully closed the door, hoping to god it wouldn’t snap the hinges clean off the frame.

“Oh, Buck.” Steve said, staring at the new arm as Bucky slid out of his jacket. It was mostly the same design as the other, but a little sleeker. “It looks great.”

Bucky gave a small grin.

“Yeah, and you’re gonna love this part.” He muttered, pulling up his shirt sleeve to reveal a new design on the shoulder. Replacing the red star was what could only be described as a mini version of Steve’s shield. The look on Steve’s face was priceless.

“That looks good on you.” He said, though the grin immediately disappeared and was replaced with a blush only Steve Rogers could sport. “I meant-“

“I know what ya meant, punk, don’t worry.” Bucky assured, the blush on Steve’s face bringing a wider grin to his own. He walked past Steve and into the living room to plop on the couch, still dizzy from whatever cocktail they injected him with for the surgery.

“You want anything, Buck?” Steve asked. “Tea? Something to eat?”

“Mmm-mmh.” Bucky hummed, his response muffled by the pillow his face was smashed into. All he wanted was to sleep the rest of the drugs off. He was barely aware of the warm weight of a thick blanket being draped over his body before drifting off into yet another (thankfully) dark and dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

He gently roused to the light sound of pans clanging in the kitchen, Steve obviously trying to be quiet about it. When a small groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up, he found his mouth and throat to be dry, almost as if they were coated in cotton.

“Good, you’re awake. I was about to start making dinner.” Steve called from the other room. When he actually looked back at Bucky rather than just a glance, he asked, “You okay?”

“Head hurts.” Bucky croaked.

He could hear Steve rummaging through the cupboard to get to the supersoldier edition of Excedrin Stark and Banner had created to cure the headaches that occurred with the nightmares.

He handed a couple to Bucky who took it and the large glass of water eagerly. He almost drank the entire glass in a few gulps before remembering to take the pills along with.

“Thanks, Stevie.” He said, sitting the drained glass on the coffee table. He eyed the ingredients set out on the kitchen counter and asked, “What are you making?”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese.” Steve replied. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up while I get it ready?”

Bucky gave a short, groggy nod before standing to head to the shower. Well, at least he attempted to stand. As soon as he tried to heave himself to his feet, it set the world spinning and left him on weak legs that gave out beneath him.

“Easy, Buck,” Steve said, catching him before he hit the floor.

“‘M okay.” Bucky insisted, though he was holding onto Steve for dear life to stay upright.

“No, you’re not. Let’s get you into bed.”

“Need a shower.” The brunette mumbled, grasping at the fabric of Steve’s shirt to pull himself upright. Only when he tried to get a firm grip did he realize he was shaking.

No, he was _shivering_ , his entire body feeling icy and numb. His vision darkened and everything seemed to go fuzzy, but he remained conscious.

“Alright.” Steve ceded. “Alright, Buck. Let’s get you to the bathroom.”

Bucky was vaguely aware of being dragged to his feet and half stumbling to the bathroom before he was set carefully on the toilet seat. He heard Steve turn on the water and knew the air warmer was running, but was hardly even aware. The warm air didn't do much in regards to thawing him, but he soon felt Steve’s warm hands brushing against bare skin as he helped Bucky out of his clothes. Once he shut the water off, he helped Bucky to his feet once more before lowering him into the hot water. This wasn’t the first time something like that had happened- there had been multiple times Bucky’d woken shivering uncontrollably. Usually those were dreams, _nightmares_ , that ended with him back in cryo.

The warmth of the water seeped slowly into his muscles, relaxing them and ceasing the shivering. He was left exhausted and boneless, leaning his head against the back of the tub.

“Y’don’t have to stay here, Stevie.” He finally mumbled, eyes just barely cracked open to see Steve. His face was flushed and sweat beaded on his forehead from the heat radiating from both the water and the vent.

“Just making sure you’re okay.” Steve replied, keeping his voice even and free of exhaustion Bucky knew the temperature was certainly causing.

“‘M fine, don’t worry.” Bucky insisted, though he knew his voice wasn’t very convincing.

“You don’t sound fine.”

“‘ _Warm_.” Bucky said, and Steve understood it wasn't just his temperature; he was back to being himself and in his right mind, however exhausted it may be.

The blonde sighed and ran a hand over the flesh between Bucky’s neck and metal shoulder.

“I know ya are, Buck.” He replied quietly. “Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Bucky slowly moved forward in the deep tub, enough to where Steve could cup his hands and run warm water over his hair. His eyes closed and his jaw slackened when he felt Steve’s fingers combing through the tangled mess, letting out a content sigh when he began massaging Bucky’s scalp, now slick with shampoo. Even though his eyes were closed, Bucky could _feel_ the smirk it brought to the blonde’s lips.

He tipped his head back to allow Steve to rinse the soap out, but it ended up lilting back further than he’d intended- he was too tired to hold it up for much longer. It was at that point that Steve decided it was time for him to drain the water and dry Bucky off. He left Bucky sitting on the toilet seat wrapped in towels while he got some soft, warm clothes to dress him in.

Bucky could barely keep upright long enough to get dressed, and Steve had to practically carry his ass to bed. Once his head gently hit the pillow, he was out.

\---

The next time he woke, sun was shining through the single window in his room (Bucky had preferred something more closed in and secured just out of old habits). At first, he groaned because _dammit, Steve, I hate leaving that thing open_ , but then he realized if it was shining through his window, which faced west, then he must have slept through the entire day. The way his stomach was growling supported the theory, and he shoved himself out of bed to see what Steve was up to...and to go get himself something to eat.

He was fuzzy on the events of last night, but knew enough to realize he’d had another one of his episodes: his hair smelled like the shampoo they used when he was stressed (Natasha had suggested it, said it was supposed to be “calming”) and he was wearing his softest, warmest clothes that he only broke out when he really needed them.

“Stevie?” He called, heading out his already-open door and into the hallway. He didn't get a response, but was able to hear water running through the pipes and knew Steve was in the shower. Too hungry to wait for him to get out, Bucky decided to make dinner as sort of payment for taking care of him last night.

It didn't take long to realize that wouldn't be happening.

When he tried to open the cabinet for a pan, he accidentally ripped the door from the hinges. Shrugging it off and knowing he could fix it (Steve had accidentally done it a few times anyway) he went for one of the pans. His metal hand left imprints on the handle of it.

When he tried to do things right-handed only and fumbled with getting spaghetti noodles out of the box, he ended up breaking the stovetop and scattering broken noodles everywhere.

“Buck? Are you okay?” He heard Steve ask from down the hall. He hadn’t noticed the absence of running water until it became eerily quiet.

_No, no I'm not okay, I’m a weapon, all I do is destroy things._ He thought. Of course, what he forced himself to say through the tears that had begun to fall down his cheeks was, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky’s back was to the hallway, but he knew as soon as Steve saw the mess because of the small gasp.

“Steve, I’m so sorry, I can't- it’s too strong- I- I want it off-” Bucky choked.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve breathed, pulling him into a tight hug.

“No, Steve, I might hurt you-” Bucky resisted, squirming to pull away. Despite the struggling Steve's grip only tightened, trapping him in his firm embrace.

“You won't hurt me, Bucky. I promise you won't hurt me.” He whispered soothingly. By that time the tears had turned into full-out sobs muffled by the fabric over Steve’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered between hitches of breath.

“Shh,” Steve hushed, moving his hand to cup the back of Bucky’s head and run his fingers through the soft hair. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

That only caused more tears to form and blur his vision, because _yes,_ he _did_ have things to be sorry about. All the innocents he killed as the Soldier, all the things, _atrocities_ he’d committed, all the destruction he brought. He didn’t deserve comfort, he didn’t deserve to be cared for, he didn’t deserve Steve. He couldn’t even make dinner without destroying half the kitchen.

They stood like that for what seemed like hours, Steve whispering soothing words into Bucky’s ear while gently stroking the back of his head. Even after the tears stopped, Steve held on tight.

“I don’t deserve this.” Bucky muttered, voice rough from his cries.

“After all you’ve been through- all seventy years of it -Buck, this is the least you deserve. All those things they made you do, none of that was you.”

“I know. But I did it.”

Bucky felt Steve’s chest heave as he let out a heavy sigh. He knew his pain wasn’t only hurting himself, but also Steve, the one person he vowed to never hurt again. Realizing that only made it worse, made him want to start crying all over again. Suddenly he was firmly grasped by the shoulders and shoved back a few inches, cold air replacing the warmth where Steve had been pressed against him. By doing this, Steve forced him to meet his eyes, so blue and fierce and red from tears of their own.

“I know you don’t believe it, but I do. I do, Buck, and so do the others. You’re a good man, don’t you ever think otherwise. You may not have the same hair as you did in the ‘40s, and you may have had a few...enhancements,” A small smirk accompanied the word. “But you’re still Bucky Barnes. _A_ soldier, not _the_ Soldier.”

Bucky shyly looked up at Steve through dark lashes, feeling the reassuring squeeze on his right shoulder.

“Now why don’t we get the kitchen cleaned up and order a pizza? Sound good to you?” He suggested. Bucky gave a stiff nod in return. He tilted his head when he felt Steve’s touch disappear, replaced by cold. All he wanted was to feel Steve’s warm body pressed against his, like he used to do for the skinny blond during the winters when it got too cold in their shared apartment. _That_ was what it meant to be truly warm.

Knowing Steve didn’t reciprocate the feelings, Bucky sighed and turned to help somewhat restore the kitchen to its previous state. The stove would have to be completely replaced, and the pan he’d accidentally left his fingerprints on had also gotten bent at the handle and while it would’ve been easy for one of the supersoldiers residing in the apartment to bend it back into place, they decided it was better for it to be discarded altogether.

By the time the pizzas got there, the kitchen was as clean as it was going to get, at least for the night, and the two had taken to settling in the living room. Bucky was still wary of the strength of his new arm and wanted to sit to the left of Steve, switched from their usual positions.

He heard Steve politely pay for the pizzas and close the door before bringing them to the coffee table. There were four pizzas total, considering either man could easily eat two pizzas if he was hungry, even the gigantic ones with slices the size of Bucky’s head from the place a couple blocks away.

He knew Steve was going to eat all of his portion, and could probably take care of part of Bucky’s by the way he sat the boxes down and immediately started devouring the pizza. Bucky felt a pang of guilt- Steve must've been hungry when he got out of the shower, and because Bucky was stupid, destroyed the kitchen, and needed his little comfort session, he'd delayed him the chance to eat.

As for Bucky, well, he picked at his first piece and chewed every bit thoughtfully. He was halfway done with his first slice when Steve was halfway done with his first pie.

“Come on, Buck, you haven't eaten in two days.” Steve said, lowering the piece he’d taken a bite of.

“I’m not very hungry.” Bucky replied. It was true; he didn't really feel like eating after everything, but his body apparently needed it.

“Really?” Steve asked, tilting his head. “Because I can hear your stomach saying otherwise.”

 Bucky sighed and took another bite, just to shut his stomach up.

By the time the next episode of Friends started, Bucky had caved and nearly finished the whole first pizza, Steve on the last piece of his second. Things had seemed to even out, the two laughing at the show and occasionally bumping shoulders. Bucky got so distracted that he ended up reaching for another slice when they were all gone.

“Huh, guess I _was_ hungry.” He said, taking a drink of his water. He didn't have to see Steve to know he was rolling his eyes.

He sat back and settled next to Steve, their shoulders touching. Eventually, Bucky ended up laying with his legs hanging over his end of the couch, head in Steve’s lap. It didn't take long before he felt fingers combing through his hair- something that never happened unless it was being washed -and glancing up noticed that by the way blondie was looking at the TV he didn't even notice he was doing it.

“Am I a cat now?” Bucky asked, smirking up at Steve whose cheeks reddened as soon as he realized what he was doing.

“Oh! Sorry, Buck, I didn't mean to- I mean it just happened-”

“Stevie, it’s fine, really.” Bucky hushed him, giving a small laugh. He nestled closer onto Steve’s lap and said, “Feels good.”

  
“Oh. Okay, then.” Steve said quietly, going back to running his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Steve wasn’t sure when he’d even dozed off in the first place, but he woke still on the couch with Bucky’s head in his lap, his hand still weaved through the soft brown hair. Bucky was snoring softly, and Steve realized this was the first time he’d slept without nightmares. That is, when he wasn’t under the influence of coma-inducing drugs. Steve smiled when he shifted slightly, pushing further into the blond’s touch and giving a gentle sigh. He didn’t dare move- Bucky was finally resting peacefully and he wasn’t about to interrupt it. It almost _was_ like having a cat in his lap.

And then the lightbulb went off in Steve’s head. A cat. A _cat_. That was it! A while back, Sam had told him animals could serve as therapeutic to those who were suffering from PTSD and the like. Bucky would be more likely to develop a fondness for a dog, but a cat...that could show him he wasn’t as damaging as he thought. Steve knew what those hands were capable of, knew how strong or gentle they could be. If Steve got something to help him realize he didn’t destroy everything he touched, maybe it would help with the nightmares as well.

Steve picked up his phone, carefully crossing his right arm across his body to get it from the couch armrest, and typed a message to Sam explaining his idea. It was late enough that he knew Wilson would probably just be getting back from his morning run. It took a while to type the whole message one-handed, but he had reason to be patient. Not long after it sent, he got a reply.

 

Today 6:05 AM

 **Sam:** Really, Rogers? No “Hi, Sam, I know we haven’t talked in a while, how are you?” I can see your momma taught you well. Sounds like a good idea, but you don’t want to move too quickly into this- give him a little time to adjust to the new arm and then we can see about introducing the cat. How’s he handling it, by the way?

 **Sam:** See? At least I care about other people’s feelings.

 

Steve rolled his eyes, although he gave a small grin as he typed the next message.

 

 **Me:** He’s not doing too well. Slept for a few hours after he got back from the surgery, woke up in one of his nightmares and I had to calm him down. Took him to bed and he slept until last night, tried to make dinner and ended up destroying the kitchen. First night he hasn’t had nightmares though.

 **Sam:** Do anything different?

 **Me:** He fell asleep with his head on my lap. Still there, why I didn’t call you.

 **Sam:** Awww, supersoldier cuddling

 

The last message was accompanied by a smug-looking emoji with flushed cheeks.

 

 **Sam:** Also, does he know how you feel?

 

Steve let out a soft sigh at the last text. He’d been talking to Sam one night when they were holed up in some musty hotel room looking for Bucky about how it used to be back before Bucky enlisted. Hell, before he even started basic. Apparently he’d been speaking in such a way that Sam caught on and figured out what Steve felt for Bucky wasn’t just friendship. Finally, after a bit of coaxing from Sam, he flat-out confessed it.

“I never realized it at the time.” He’d said, sitting on the corner of his bed and staring at the grungy carpet. “When we were kids, I thought maybe there was something else between us. But when he started taking all these girls on dates, I realized he didn’t feel the same way for me as I did for him. Bucky was my everything: no girl in her right mind wanted to go out with a skinny kid like me, but he didn’t seem to care. Then I met Peggy, and I...I loved her too. I didn’t know someone was able to love both back then, and I knew it was illegal to have feelings for him, but I did. Later, when he fell,” He lifted his eyes to meet Sam’s. “It felt like part of me fell with him.”

He typed his response indicating the negative and looked back to Bucky’s head still lying in his lap, thinking of how he’d pushed into his hand. God, he loved him. So much it made his chest hurt to think about. He knew it was wrong, knew he shouldn’t feel like that toward his best friend, but he did. Above all, the thing that hurt the most was knowing Bucky didn’t feel it back.

Steve only tore his eyes away from the brunette’s figure when his phone lit up, signaling he’d gotten a reply from Sam.

 

Today 6:11

 **Sam:** Dammit Steve just come out of the closet already! Tell your boy what you told me that night in the hotel room. Hell, you’d think he’d already know considering what you went through to save him.

 **Sam:** Plus Stark and I have a bet going, and if you do this it’ll be in my favor so PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LET ME WIN!!!

 **Me:** We’ll see.

 

He turned his attention back to Bucky, whose deep, heavy breaths shifted to slow, gentle ones.

“Stevie?” He asked sleepily. Steve couldn’t tell if he was actually waking or if he was still stuck in a dream.

“Right here, Buck.” Steve said quietly, setting his phone down and using his free hand to rub over Bucky’s metal arm, Stark having told him it could feel pressure and warmth now. The pleasured sigh it elicited from the owner of said arm confirmed it, as well as made Steve’s face go hot with a blush. Needless to say, he was thankful Bucky wasn’t looking.

After a few minutes of silence, Steve still running his hand over the now warmed metal of his friend’s arm, Bucky asked what time it was.

“6:15.” Steve answered.

“Mmm.” Bucky hummed. Then, lifting his head, “No nightmares?”

“No nightmares.” Steve confirmed.

“Huh. That’s...new.” He said, sitting up and scratching the bare patch of skin where his shirt had partially pulled up. Steve tried to draw his eyes from the spot before Bucky noticed, but was just a millisecond late.

“Lookin’ for a show, Rogers?” He asked, cocky smirk plastered to his lips.

“Zoned out for a minute.” Steve replied, somehow holding back the blush that threatened to creep up on his face and shoulders. Something in Bucky’s eyes darkened, his grin faltering like he almost _wanted_ to see the blush.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” He said, standing from the couch to head to his bathroom. Steve sighed and looked at his phone, which was loaded with messages.

 

Today 6:17 AM

 **Sam:** Seriously dude, please!

 **Sam:** Steve

 **Sam:** STEVE CONFESS YOUR UNDYING LOVE FOR HIM RIGHT NOW

 **Sam:** STEVEN GRANT ROGERS

 **Sam:** This is why you don’t have any friends.

 **Me:** Patience is a virtue.

 **Sam:** …

 **Sam:** I hate you.

 

Steve chuckled and headed to the kitchen to make breakfast before he remembered the stove was broken. He dug through the pantry for something to make, finding bagels, bread, and something called Toaster Streudels. Bucky was the reason the last item was in their food stock. While at the grocery store, roaming through the aisles, Bucky saw the colorful box, stared at it for a moment, and threw it in the cart. Steve had laughed, earning a “What? May as well try it.” from the brunette.

Steve grinned at the memory as he retrieved the toaster from the cabinet and sat the so-called pastries on the counter beside it, waiting for Bucky to get out of the shower to put them in. Instead, he grabbed an assortment of fruits from the counter and a few in the fridge to accompany some yogurt and bagels with cream cheese.

He started with toasting the bagels, only getting to the Toaster Streudels when he heard the water shut off and knew Bucky was about to get out of the shower.

By the time he was out, everything was toasted and the fruits that needed to be sliced were. He sat out a container of blueberries specifically for Bucky since they were his favorites. Speaking of which, once he left the bathroom and threw his towel in the hamper, Bucky headed straight for the blueberries and picked a few from the container as he brushed past Steve to get coffee mugs- Steve had already made a fresh pot while he was getting the food ready. He couldn't help but notice Bucky only used his right hand to complete the actions, which sent a pang of guilt through his chest. If he’d just reached a little further, none of this would even be happening.

He forced the dark thoughts out of his head and thought of ways to convince Bucky to use the metal appendage. Maybe if he just took his hand, showed him it could be gentle...no, that was too intimate for a friendship.

Instead, he carefully watched Bucky from the corner of his eye as he poured them both cups of coffee, all with his right hand, his left hanging limply at his side. Steve made a point of brushing against as he reached for his mug, Bucky noticeably flinching at the contact. Steve ignored it. He’d already been busy piling Bucky’s plate with food while he’d gotten everything ready and held it out for Bucky, who had his coffee mug in the other hand. He eyed the ceramic plate warily, almost as if it was something venomous.

He raised his eyes to meet Steve’s.

“Steve-”

“You won’t break it. You could with the other one and you didn’t; you’ve got control over this.” He said reassuringly. Bucky’s gaze was still uncertain, scared and almost helpless. God, all Steve wanted to do was trap him in another tight hug and let him know everything was okay, that he wasn’t the machine he thinks he is.

Bucky took a deep breath and tentatively raised the metal hand so the fingers gently brushed underneath. He carefully closed his grip over the top and took the plate from Steve’s hand. He stared at the plate like it was made of thin glass and would shatter at any second. They both heard the ceramic crack and Bucky quickly sat it on the counter before it broke and dirtied the floor.

“I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m calling Stark, he’ll take it off-”

“You’re not calling anybody.” Steve said firmly. “Bucky, nothing is wrong with you. You’re not what you think you are, you’re not a monster or a machine or whatever you're trying to convince yourself you are. You’re just not used to the strength of your new arm yet, that’s all. Things are gonna get better.”

Bucky gave him a sideways grin.

“Ain’t that what your ma always used to say when you were sick?” He asked.

“I’m still standing here, aren’t I?” Steve replied, a grin of his own forming along with it. That at least got Bucky’s face to soften a bit and released a visible amount of tension.

“Why don’t you go sit down while I get this fixed up?” He suggested, already busying himself with transferring the food on Bucky’s plate to his own so they could just pick off of one. Bucky agreed and took a seat in the kitchen, this time in his usual spot. He picked up the remote and started searching for shows, finally settling on some cartoon called Steven Universe.

Steve carried his mug and the plate piled with food to the coffee table, claiming his own spot beside the brunette. He let himself brush against the metal shoulder, helping him adjust to the touch. Bucky didn’t flinch like he did earlier; in fact, the more engrossed in the TV they became, the easier it was to just laugh and act like normal people. Steve even caught Bucky picking up his mug with his left hand, too caught up in the show to notice what he was doing.

Steve didn’t say a word about it.

Instead, he texted Sam.

 

Today 6:49 AM

 **Me:** I know exactly when to get him the cat.

 **Sam:** When?

 **Me:** His birthday’s coming up in a couple weeks. That’s enough time, right?

 **Sam:** Just keep an eye on your boy. AND MAKE HIM YOUR BOY, DAMMIT!!!

 

Steve gave a soft laugh and sat the phone back down, reaching for a strawberry stuck to the top of a bagel.

“What?” Bucky asked, popping a blueberry into his mouth.

“Nothin’.” Steve replied, a grin still on his face as he returned to the TV.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks for the kudos and comments! Also, this chapter was kinda iffy editing-wise so if you see anything wrong, let us know!  
> -A&R


	4. Chapter 4

It was agony waiting for Bucky’s birthday to come around. It had been the end of February when he’d had the new prosthesis put on, so March 10th wasn’t a very long wait. Still, it felt like forever to Steve, and that was saying something.

It took nearly all of the first week for Bucky to even start using his arm for basic actions in which items that were a little harder to break were involved in. He was still wary using it for stuff that required a more sensitive touch, but for the most part was okay. There were a couple days that didn’t end so well, and as he started sleeping back in his room the nightmares returned and they got back to their usual schedule.

During that week, they’d also gone shopping for a new stove. They decided to go with something similar to the one they’d had before, though it was a little more up to date.

At the beginning of the second week, Steve decided to try something. He remembered how Bucky hadn’t had any nightmares the night he and Steve fell asleep on the couch, and instead of sleeping in his room he decided to go ahead and sleep on the palette beside Bucky’s bed.

“You don’t have to sleep down there all night.” Bucky’d said, looking down at Steve on the ground. “‘S not like we’ve never shared a bed before.”

Steve shrugged and grabbed his pillow from the ground, climbing into bed beside Bucky. It was obvious the latter was still having issues with touch, at least with his left arm, but they ended up like they used to when it was just them in their small, one-bedroom apartment; backs pressed up against each other with their feet occasionally brushing. That night, Bucky didn’t have any nightmares.

After that, it got a little better. Both got more sleep since Bucky wasn’t thrashing in his nightmares and Steve didn’t have to wake him. He also began opening up a bit with the metal arm, trying it out with more delicate items such as consciously picking up a coffee mug or using it to eat with. He still wouldn’t purposely touch Steve with it, but didn’t seem to mind if Steve leaned or brushed against it while they were sitting on the couch.

On the morning of Bucky’s birthday, Steve got up earlier than usual to make an extra-special breakfast, as opposed to their usual cereal and Toaster Streudels (Bucky was now hooked on them). He used their new stove to make pancakes, bacon, eggs, and hash browns, and actually made use of the waffle maker Stark had given him a while back as a gag gift- it made waffles in the shape of Steve’s shield and had the design painted on the outside.

He’d already stocked up on tons of blueberries, even putting some in the pancakes and waffles, and piled as much as he could on a huge plate that was apparently supposed to be used to serve cookies and the like (it was also painted like his shield, though this one was Maria’s doing) and made it look as festive as he could.

“Steve?” Bucky asked tiredly from his doorway, hair a mess and eyes still glazed over with sleep. Steve couldn't help but realize they were also somewhat red and puffy, but he didn't mention anything.

“Happy birthday, Buck.” He said instead, slinging a towel over his shoulder.

\---

Bucky stared at the breakfast laid out on the bar: a huge plate piled with waffles and pancakes, lined with tons of whipped cream and fruits, next to it another plate piled with hash browns, eggs, and bacon. He stared at the mass of food, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. If Steve hadn’t reminded him of it a few days ago he wouldn’t even know why he’d done this. Not because he didn’t remember his birthday, but because he was just bad with days in general, and these past couple of weeks haven’t exactly been easy ones. Although since he and Steve began sharing a bed like they used to, both their nights have been considerably more restful.

“Stevie, you didn’t have to do this.” Bucky insisted, though he was still staring at the enormous heap of food and wondering how Steve managed to make this much without waking him.

“It’s your birthday, of course I had to. Now dig in before it gets cold.” Steve replied.

“Yes, _ma_.” Bucky said, heading over to take a seat at the bar. “But you’re helping me eat all this.”

Steve poured him a glass of orange juice and sat it next to the mug of coffee that was paired with an empty, normal-size plate.

“Whatever you say.” He said, grabbing himself a plate from the cupboard above the counter and some extra silverware from the drawer below it.

Bucky had his good mornings and his bad mornings. This, while disguised as a good one, wasn't as great as it seemed. While they obviously weren’t enough to wake him up, he’d still had nightmares. They started out as the usual; ones of being tortured and prodded and experimented on by Hydra, but at the end it was much worse. It was the '30s, back in their little Brooklyn apartment. It'd been cold and rainy and Steve was bed-ridden with pneumonia. That part of the memory was very real and had actually happened, but instead of Steve recovering, Bucky watched him die right there before his eyes, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. He woke with tears running down his face. Thankfully, it wasn’t bad enough to leave him shaking and incapacitated as they sometimes did, but they still left him anxious and on the verge of a panic attack. That last one was the worst. Being around Steve and eating breakfast at the bar seemed to ease his nerves a bit, even to the point where he used his metal hand to pick up the utensils and didn’t mind.

About half an hour into breakfast, where they’d finally almost managed to destroy the pile of food, there was a knock at the door. Steve wiped his mouth with the napkin before throwing it on the plate and standing.

“I got it.” He said, already halfway to the door. Bucky gave himself a birthday present by admiring how damn fine Steve’s ass looked in those sweatpants as he opened it. He tried to lean back and get a glance over Steve at who was there but couldn’t see over those broad shoulders. Bucky figured it was either a kid trying to sell girl scout cookies or something Steve was expecting, considering how lax he seemed, and returned to eating his breakfast. Steve was the best, making blueberry pancakes. He savored the last whipped cream-drenched bite before wiping his hands off and taking both their plates to the sink. Carefully using his metal hand to shift the plates around, he washed them and sat them in the dish rack to let them dry. Just as he was about to grab the empty glasses and coffee mugs, Steve closed the door.

“Who was that?” Bucky asked, throwing the towel over his shoulder after drying his hands. He froze in his tracks when he heard something almost like a mew beside him, where Steve now stood. “Steve...what was that?”

There still wasn’t an answer as Steve edged closer, something soft and purring brushing up against his flesh arm. When Bucky looked, he saw it was a tiny cream-colored kitten with huge gray ears, a gray ringed tail, and a smoky face with a hint of brown fur over its nose. It reached out to Bucky with tiny gray paws, staring up at him with pale blue eyes.

“Steve-”

“Her name’s Lyric.” Steve said, cradling her in his arms. She was already tiny, but was shrunk even more in proportion to Captain America’s biceps. “Sam brought her over. He works in collaboration with a clinic that specializes in therapy animals. She’s just a kitten, only about five weeks old.”

Bucky looked at him questioningly.

“You’ve never been a cat person. What made you decide on a cat? Let alone a five-week-old kitten?” He asked, watching it retract its paws and curl up safely in Steve’s arms.

“Well, for the record I didn’t know she was going to be this young. Originally I was just thinking of getting an actual cat, but the clinic said this one had been picked on by the others and they needed a home for her. So, Sam got her. She’s real sweet Buck, why don’t you hold her?”

Bucky shifted his weight to lean away, grabbing the towel to busy his hands.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He said, turning to grab the cups and carrying them to the sink to be washed.

“Come on, Buck, you won’t hurt her.”

“You don’t know that.” Bucky replied tersely, scrubbing out the glasses and rinsing them before putting them with the plates in the dish rack.

“Yes, I do.” Steve said quietly.

“I can’t even pick up a goddamn plate without shattering it, what makes you think I can handle a kitten?” He asked with a bit more force than necessary, throwing the towel against the back wall of the counter.

Without saying anything, Steve reached out and grabbed his arm, folding it up against Bucky’s body and slowly placing the kitten on his forearm, the cat curling right back up and making itself comfortable. It was warm, even with his heightened body heat, and he felt it purring. Steve gently reached down and took Bucky’s metal hand in his, lifting it up and gingerly placing it against the kitten’s tiny head. Bucky almost moaned at the feeling of Steve’s warm hand in his, it being the first gentle gesture it’d really felt since it was a flesh and blood one.

He could feel the warmth of Lyric’s head, and while it didn’t feel the softness of her fur, the plates did pick up the change in texture. Feeling something living, something so delicate beneath his fingers accompanied by Steve’s grip on his wrist guiding his hand to stroke its fur...that was it. The feeling of touch was almost too overwhelming- just the warmth alone was enough to make his jaw fall slack, trying to form words but failing.

The kitten mewed again and sat up to push her head into the metal fingers, rubbing her face between them. Bucky looked up at Steve and gave a disbelieving laugh, actually smiling. Maybe Steve was right; maybe he was capable of things other than destruction.

Soon enough the kitten began to meow impatiently, wanting down to explore the apartment. Bucky gently sat her on the floor of the kitchen, and it didn't take long for her to look around and stumble into the living room. Looking up at Steve, he noticed a grin of his own was stuck to his lips. 

“Steve,” He breathed, gaze switching between the two gorgeous cobalt irises. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed Steve’s sides and pulled him close, hungrily mashing his lips against the blond’s. When Steve pushed forward and kissed him back, hands gripping Bucky’s waist, he couldn’t help but grin against his mouth. Steve’s lips were still sweet from the whipped cream, and Bucky let his teeth gently graze over them, biting down ever so slightly. His metal hand ran under Steve’s shirt making him gasp against Bucky’s mouth, the latter humming and pulling Steve closer. He needed to feel him and know for sure he wasn’t going anywhere. Warm hands moved along the curve of his back, hot trails following the touch and causing him to arch into it, closer to Steve- as if that was even possible. Bucky’s right hand moved up to grasp at the soft hairs on the nape of Steve’s neck, a warm hand pressed to his own jaw. They only broke to finally allow themselves to breathe, gasping to make up for the oxygen they’d spent.

“But...all those girls…” Steve said, panting. His forehead was still pressed against Bucky’s, each sharing the air between them.

“Why’dya think there were never second dates?” Bucky replied. “I wasn't _allowed_ to love you, otherwise I woulda done this about 80 years sooner.”

Steve gave a breathy laugh accompanied by a grin, running his thumb over Bucky’s cheek.

That was the best Bucky’d felt since they were kids, since he realized he was in love with his best friend. He finally confessed it, let Steve knew how he really felt, and now he knew Steve felt it back. _Steve felt it back._ It seemed like he was absolutely weightless, like nothing else mattered but the man standing in front of him. In fact, he was about to lean back in and kiss those swollen lips when he was interrupted by the cat meowing yet again. He paused halfway there and said, “You had to get a kitten of all things to come out of the closet, didn’t ya?”

“Hey, for the record, you kissed me first.” Steve pointed out. “I just got the kitten ‘cause I thought it’d help you with the whole...arm thing.”

Bucky felt something soft rub along his ankles and looked down to see Lyric looking up at him with her little blue eyes. For some reason, they reminded him of Steve’s.

“I think she likes you.” Steve said, following his gaze to look at the cat.

“I guess I’m good at attracting small things with blue eyes.” Bucky quipped, reaching down to pick her up and cradle her between him and Steve. The blond hooked his finger under Lyric’s chin, the kitten closing her eyes and leaning into it.

“Jerk.” He said, though he was still entertaining the cat.

“Punk.”

“By the way...Sam didn't happen to bring a litter box and some food, did he?” Bucky asked, looping her tail around a metal finger.

“Yes, actually, he did. By the door.” Steve replied, still busy petting Lyric. Bucky glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough there was a box with a tub of litter and a small bag of food with a bowl sitting on top.

“Sorry, Mr. America, I couldn't see over those ginormous arms.”

That earned an eye roll from Steve.

“What? Those things are big ‘round as you were when you were skinny.” Bucky pointed out.

And that got him a light slap on the arm as he passed to get the kitten’s stuff set up. Bucky cradled Lyric in his metal hand and ran his thumb over her face, the cat closing her eyes as he pet under her chin. She really was adorable, almost reminded him of Steve when he was tiny and fragile, just like her. He looked down at her, she looking up at him. She mewed sleepily and reached a paw out to stretch up to Bucky’s collarbone.

“Really?” He asked, dipping his head down so his nose met the top of her fuzzy head. She mewed again in response. He laughed and held her closer as her eyes closed and her purring slowly quieted before stopping altogether, and he knew she was asleep.

“Hey Buck-”

“Shh,” Bucky hushed, turning a bit so Steve could see her asleep against his chest. Steve grinned and shook his head. “ _She’s so cute!_ ” Bucky mouthed.

“I think she likes you.” Steve said quietly.

“I think so.” Bucky agreed just as softly. A low rumble of thunder outside caught both their attentions, causing them to glance out the window. Sure enough, dark clouds were rolling in and sprinkles of rain began to fall, hitting the window panes. A normal person wouldn’t have been able to see it from their positions in the kitchen, but the serum did more than just give them muscles and enhanced healing.

“Movie?” Bucky asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Movie.” Steve agreed. “What do you wanna watch?”

“You choose.”

“There’s a movie Clint suggested a while back. Something called _The Princess Bride_.” Steve replied. “We have it in the stock of movies Tony and Pepper bought me when I first moved in. They said they’d ‘stocked me with the essentials.’”

“I’m guessing that was Tony. Pepper just stood there, smiling and rolling her eyes at Tony didn’t she?” Bucky said, carefully sitting on the couch with the kitten still lying on his arm.

“Yep.” He replied curtly, grabbing a movie from the shelf under the TV and putting the disc in the player next to it. When he sat next to Bucky, Lyric stretched and yawned, deciding Captain America’s lap was a better place to snooze.

“Traitor,” Bucky murmured, though he soon found himself with his legs pulled up on the couch, leaning his head against Steve’s shoulder. Steve sighed and gently placed his hand on top of Bucky’s, who grinned at the touch.

About twenty minutes into the movie, the cat got up and began wandering around again. Bucky figured that just freed up a spot and took the liberty of laying as he had a while back, sprawled on the couch with his head in Steve’s lap. He expected a sigh or an eye roll or something along the lines of “Really? I just got an actual cat out of my lap,” but instead he just shifted a little and put his feet up on the coffee table, not seeming to care too much. Bucky didn’t care, as long as he got to lay close to Steve. When he woke up with Steve’s fingers still curled in his hair that morning, he was so close to admitting it. He was so close to telling Steve how much he loved him, how much he wanted to wake up pressed against each other. Not like they used to wake up with limbs tangled because they were forced to share a bed and that was that. He wanted to be roused by fingers brushing up and down his arm, by soft kisses being pressed into his neck. Hell, add an “a” to the beginning and he’d be fine with that too.

He snuggled closer against Steve, bringing his hand up to rest on the blond’s knee, thumbing over his leg.

“Used to be if I did this I’d probably crush you.” He mused, eyes focused on the TV.

“Used to be if you did this you were so drunk you couldn’t even walk.” Steve replied.

Bucky scrunched his face and tilted his head up a bit.

“I don’t remember ever doing this before now.” He said, though his eyes were still on the screen.

“You didn’t remember it the next morning, either.” Steve pointed out, brushing a small strand of hair from Bucky’s eyes.

“Did you do this then, too?” The brunette asked. Steve was quiet for a moment before answering, the feeling of his hair lightly being tugged and untangled making his eyes flutter. It felt so good to have it carefully untangled and played with as opposed to the usual harshness it was handled with at Hydra. They specifically liked to use it to yank him to his feet when he was too weak to do it himself or when he was being punished.

“Yeah. I did.” Steve confessed. “I knew you wouldn’t remember it the next day anyway, and your hair has always been so soft.”

Bucky hummed, giving a small smirk as he resettled his head where it had been before. It was so easy to relax and pretend they were normal for just a minute, with Steve combing through his hair and a movie playing and even a pet roaming through the apartment. And on top of that, they weren’t doing anything illegal by showing affection toward one another. Early on, when Bucky was just getting to really be himself again, they even went into a clothing shop with a woman who spoke to them of her wife freely, without issue or concern. At first, Bucky was surprised; he’d seen papers and heard news while overseas of the legalization of same-sex marriages, but it was a whole different thing to see and hear it in person. Steve’d been enthusiastic about all of it beforehand, come to find out Captain America himself had a thing for a guy all along. That brought another thought to Bucky’s mind.

“When you and Peggy...had a thing...was that…?” He asked cautiously, watching as Vizzini said something about Sicilians before falling over dead.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was. She was the first dame to ever notice me when I was skinny. She was gorgeous, didn’t look at me like I would break at any second. Reminded me of you, in a way. But at the same time I never stopped having feelings for you. I mean, we’ve already covered the fact that it was illegal then, and I didn’t want to say something and ruin our friendship because I was, well, what they call ‘bi’. If I’d known how you felt then, things would’ve gone much differently, believe me.” He replied. “You know, when I found you on that table, I couldn’t believe you were alive. Jesus, Buck, they told me you were dead. I didn’t know how I would live with knowing I was that close, I was _that_ close and I could have lost you while they had me on tour as a showgirl. Then you were there, right there, and I…”

“I wanted to kiss you.” Bucky completed, turned around in Steve’s lap to face him. “You have no idea how many times Zola shot me up with somethin’ that made me see you. Whether it was watching you die or seeing myself _with_ you...just to see you actually there, at first I thought it was another hallucination. You were so much taller, so much stronger...you were everything I’ve always seen in you, standing right there.” He said. Steve froze, speechless. Before either could say anything, Bucky reached up and grabbed the back of Steve’s head, meeting him halfway for a deep kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the change of tags and rating...there's some good stuff coming. Ha, I love puns. Once again, thanks for the comments and kudos!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, as a warning this is my first time writing smut (even though I've definitely read my fair share) so tell me what you think in the comments! Much appreciation, such thanks.

It didn't take long before Bucky was on top of Steve, legs straddling his waist as he planted sloppy kisses all over his face. They sighed into each other's mouths when they met, Bucky running his hands all over Steve's body and pressing their hips close. It didn't take long for him to notice the friction between their legs and he gave a sly grin as he ground his growing erection against Steve's, who in turn gave a moan that sent shivers down Bucky's spine and straight to his dick. Warm pleasure writhed in his belly, and he knew he wasn't going to last long- he’d been on edge ever since Steve started playing with his hair in the first place.    
  
"Why don't we take this to the bedroom, babydoll?" Bucky suggested softly into the blond's ear. His eyes were still closed as he nodded hastily.    
  
"Whatever you want, Buck.  _ Please _ ." He said breathlessly.    
  
Bucky hummed into his ear and stood smoothly from the couch, pulling Steve along with him and keeping him close as he slowly backed him to the bedroom, still pressing their now-swollen lips together. God, he'd waited so long for this. Ever since they were teenagers sharing an apartment in Brooklyn, all he'd ever wanted to do was show him that yes, there was somebody who loved him.    
  
It just wasn't a dame.    
  
When they entered the bedroom, Bucky nudged the door shut with his toe and made quick work of pulling Steve's shirt off, unceremoniously tossing it to the side. As soon as the back of Steve's knees hit the bed, Bucky shoved him down and stripped of his own shirt, falling on top of Steve and resuming the sloppy kisses. He sucked on his neck and collarbones, leaving dark bruises behind that they both knew would quickly fade. His lips trailed down to Steve's chest, then his stomach where he sucked hungrily at the hard muscle, trailing a bit lower to nip at the sensitive skin below his navel. Bucky eyed the beautiful sight before him: Steve splayed gracefully on the bed, his back slightly arched as he writhed with pleasure. But oh, Bucky was about to deliver so much more. He palmed Steve's balls through his sweatpants, eliciting yet another moan from the blond.    
  
"You want me, babydoll?" Bucky asked.   
  
"Yes, Bucky, please, please yes."

“As you wish.” Bucky growled with a devious grin, sliding Steve's sweatpants and boxers free from his waist to reveal his hardened cock, the tip already glistening with pre-come. Bucky knelt down and used his tongue to gently flick over it, Steve's knuckles going white as he gripped the sheets with pleasure. He used his warmed metal fingers to gently stroke from the base up, Steve’s toes curling. The sensation it sent through his metal arm caused stars to erupt behind his eyes, making Bucky’s mouth hang open in a shocked “O.”

  
"Bucky," Steve moaned, head pressed back into the mattress hard enough for the springs to audibly protest with his eyes squeezed shut. Without warning, Bucky took all of Steve into his mouth, feeling him all the way at the back of his throat as he used his tongue and moved his mouth in ways that caused words he didn't even realize the punk knew to flow from his mouth. Bucky grinned around his length as he kept working, gripping Steve’s thighs so hard it left handprints behind.    
  
"Oh, Buck. Fuck, Bucky, I- I'm gonna-" Steve said, back arching and fists clenched. Bucky pulled his mouth away and replaced it with his flesh hand, grabbing the spit-slick shaft and stroking up and down until Steve shuddered with his release, moaning in such a way that made Bucky's own cock throb painfully in his sweatpants.    
  
"That's it, babydoll. Let me hear ya." He said as Steve finished. God he was so beautiful, the way his brows scrunched and his jaw slackened and- oh, those noises that made Bucky restless.    
  
He didn't bother to wipe the come on his hand off before freeing himself of pants, instead using it as lubricant for his own needs.    
  
"No, Buck. Let me." Steve said, sitting up and grabbing Bucky's hips to roll him onto his back. Steve started with his neck, leaving bruises to match his own fading ones, but it made Bucky's dick twitch again, this time painful with arousal.    
  
"Steve, god- Stevie, please," he whispered, his metal hand clenching and unclenching at his side.    
  
Steve moved straight to Bucky's cock, first using his thumb to rub circles over the tip (it took every ounce of energy he had to not come then and there) before lowering his hot mouth over Bucky entirely, one hand coming up to gently massage his balls as he worked. Steve's mouth was like magic- hot, slick, and moving in just the right ways, and before Bucky could warn he came harder than he'd ever managed in his entire life, right into Steve's mouth. The blond swallowed it easily, much to Bucky's surprise, and as he was left in a weak heap on the bed he gave a small breathy laugh and whispered, "Kinky bastard."   
  
Before he knew it, Steve was sucking on his hipbone, teeth grazing along the skin. His fingers dug into the other one, leaving purple bruises behind. Bucky didn't care- he'd felt so much pain in the past 70 years and this...this was good. He didn't know such a thing was possible, but Steve made it so. 

  
"Steve, baby." Bucky breathed, savoring the touch. Soon enough, he was right on Bucky's lips. It was odd at first, tasting himself in Steve's mouth, but part of him enjoyed it.   
  
_ Yeah, now who's the kinky bastard? _ He thought.    
  
"I love you. I love you so much." Steve said between kisses.    
  
"Always have." Bucky agreed, running his hands through Steve’s short hair as he returned them. Every kiss was a promise, was making up for all those they could have shared but were deprived of. Before he knew it Bucky felt himself already beginning to harden again, and found Steve was as well. He figured it was a side-effect of having supersoldier serum running through their veins. He grinned to himself, knowing they’d have to make more use of that later.

This time when Bucky ground his hips against Steve’s there was nothing separating them. It was a little rough at first due to the lack of lubrication, but that was fixed with a little Vaseline from Steve’s nightstand. They both came hot and hard, leaving stickiness on each other’s skin. 

When they finished, Bucky collapsed next to Steve, both of them panting and exhausted. 

“You know those times...you asked me...what I was dreamin’ about…’cause I was makin’ so much noise?” Bucky asked, turning his head and cocking an eyebrow. 

“And you told me it was nightmares from captivity?” Steve asked, looking over. 

“Wasn’t just nightmares.”

Steve smiled and gave a breathy laugh, pulling Bucky in for one last kiss. As soon as their bodies touched and they nearly stuck together, Bucky suggested they take a shower. When he got up out of bed alone and realized Steve wasn't following, he called, “What, are ya waitin’ for an invitation?” 

“Nope. Just admiring the view.” Steve replied, getting up from the bed and heading to the bathroom as well. Bucky had to admit, Steve lying naked on the bed with that gorgeous, almost devious look on his face wasn't too bad either. 

They showered slowly, Bucky’s hands running up Steve’s sides and Steve’s fingers tangled in Bucky’s soapy hair. There wasn't much more kissing, mostly nuzzling and enjoying each other’s presence. They spend long enough in there that the water began to run cold, and since neither of them favored the sensation they took it as their cue to get out.

They toweled off and began heading back to Steve’s room, towels tucked low on their waists, when Bucky stopped and caught Steve’s wrist.

“Just changed the sheets on my bed yesterday. Don’t know ‘bout you, but I really don’t feel like changing yours.” He said. He was exhausted, eyes drooping despite their previous excitement. He could see it in Steve’s expression as well, through the shine in his eyes.

“See, Buck? You’re smarter than you give yourself credit.” Steve replied with a sly grin.

“Punk.” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Jerk.”

Bucky’s door had been left open just a crack when he’d left it, and now it was pushed open a bit further. When he opened it the rest of the way to peer into his room he found the kitten curled up right in the center against the pillows.

“Well,  _ someone’s _ made herself comfortable.” Bucky said, the kitten looking up at him and giving a small mew. Steve laughed behind him and they filed in, heading straight for the bed. They ended up on either side of Lyric, the kitten mewing and trying to decide who she wanted to pet her. 

“You know, the cat wasn’t such a bad idea. She’s pretty cute.” Bucky said, trailing his finger over her soft head. She purred and decided she wanted to move to actually sit  _ on _ Bucky, using her very very sharp claws to get up on his side.

“Ooookay, ow, ow, ow!” Bucky said, carefully lifting her from his side and placing her back on the bed. Instead of trying again, she got up and headed to the end of the bed, jumping off and stumbling out the door.

“I think you hurt her feelings, Buck.” Steve remarked. Bucky lightly hit Steve’s arm and pulled the sheets down, abandoning his towel and settling under the covers. Steve followed suit, making himself comfortable before shifting closer to Bucky, who rolled over and pressed his head to his chest, left arm coming up to rest beneath it. Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky and pulled him closer.    
  
"I can feel your heartbeat." Bucky mused, enjoying the fact he could actually feel Steve's warmth and the gentle thud of his heart under the metal.   
  
Steve hummed and nuzzled his hair, and Bucky could feel his warm breath as he sighed contently, reaching around to take his metal hand in his as the other wrapped around his head, playing with his long hair. They laid in comfortable silence, the only sounds being their slowing breaths, Steve’s heart thudding steadily, and the rumbles of thunder from outside.   
  
He looked at his hand with Steve's fingers curled through his and truly realized that yes, it could be used for such beautiful, gentle things. He wasn't a murderer, he wasn't a heartless machine; he was Bucky. A friend, a lover even. His life may be pretty fucked up, but one thing has always remained constant- he's always been loved by the same man, no matter if he was thought dead or brainwashed. He's always been loved by Steve.    
  
\----   
  
The next morning, Bucky was greeted with paws on his side and a sleeping boyfriend (he was guessing that's what they were classified as now) stretched out on his stomach in front of him. Meanwhile, Bucky was curled up on his side, facing Steve with the kitten on his ribs. Lyric stepped on his shoulder, clumsily sliding off the metal and landing on the bed with a soft jolt. Steve shifted in front of him, turning his head just a bit so his face wasn’t quite as smashed into the pillow and sighed. Bucky watched, waiting for him to open his eyes. He didn’t, but based on the change of his breathing and how his heart was thudding it was easy to tell he was awake.

Bucky mentally shrugged it off and raised a metal finger to let the kitten sniff before rubbing her face against it as she had the other day. She curled up against his chest and Steve cracked his eyes open just a bit to guide his hand to gently stroke her soft fur. She sat up to push further into it and Steve shifted closer to get a better reach, close enough so the tips of his hair just brushed Bucky’s forehead. Once he was content with petting Lyric, Steve lazily tilted his head down and pressed a couple soft kisses to the scarring where the metal was grafted to the flesh. Though it was scar tissue and didn’t feel much, the edges were overly-sensitive. In this case, it was a very,  _ very _ good thing.

“Mmmh.” Bucky sighed, tipping his head forward to nuzzle against the side of Steve’s head as he pressed more light kisses to the sensitive area. “You were holdin’ off on me last night.”

That earned him a small laugh that he felt against his collarbone, sending even more shivers down his spine. Bucky used his free hand to reach up and cup the side of Steve’s head, pulling his face level with his so he could give him a kiss of his own.

“No nightmares?” Steve asked, grinning at the kiss.

“No nightmares.” Bucky confirmed, leaning back in for another one. Steve hummed against his mouth, gently nipping at Bucky’s bottom lip. He knew Steve certainly didn’t learn that from Peggy, and part of him was actually pretty proud to know he’d taught him well, just as he always had.

The kitten squirmed as Bucky shifted to get better access to Steve’s lips, instead moving to settle at the bottom corner of the bed. She mewed in annoyance, attempting to get their attention, but they both ignored her in favor of each other. Bucky felt movement at his feet and only broke their morning makeout session to whisper, “I think she’s trying to kill me.”

Sure enough, when they looked down she was biting his foot through the comforter. When Bucky wiggled his toes, she attacked them, clawing and biting the thick fabric.

“I wonder what she’d be like on catnip.” He muttered, both of them watching her play.

“Sam actually left some with her stuff. She’s probably hungry, though. I’m gonna get her a can of food.” Steve replied, folding the blankets over and getting out of bed. Bucky certainly enjoyed the view as he left, heading first down the hallway to presumably get something to cover up with.

“Hey, she’s not the only one who’s hungry!” Bucky yelled, leaning over to get a pair of sweatpants from the floor beside his bed and swinging his legs out to pull them on.

“You can get your own Toaster Streudels!” He heard Steve call back, his voice muffled through the layers of walls.

“Fiiiine.” Bucky groaned, giving the kitten a pat on the head (which earned him a bite and attempted scratches) as he headed to the kitchen to get his breakfast. Meanwhile, Steve came out from his room dressed in a tight dark red v-neck and black sweatpants. The shirt was Bucky’s doing- he’d thought the color looked good on him and wanted to see  _ wayyy _ more of it, especially if it was in the form of his too-small clothes; he was glad no one ever told Captain America there were shirts his size. 

Bucky grabbed two large bowls and some milk from the fridge, Steve grabbing the boxes of cereal. After sitting them on the counter, Steve got a ramekin from the cabinet and filled it with a bit of milk, placing it on the ground for the kitten to sniff before eagerly lapping at it. He then grabbed a can from her stash of stuff and opened it with the tab on top, scooping it out onto a dish and placing it beside the milk.

“You’re gonna spoil that cat.” Bucky remarked through a mouthful of Lucky Charms.

“What and this isn’t how you treated me when I was tiny?” Steve retorted, taking his place beside Bucky at the bar.

“There was much less petting involved. And she’s getting better food than we did in our shitty apartment.” The brunette returned, nodding at the kitten on the floor beside the legs of the stool Steve was occupying. “Plus, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think you meowed so much as nagged.”

Steve shrugged as he poured his own cereal and said, “Point taken.”

Bucky watched him, sitting just barely slumped with those muscles that carried him through battle and so much more. He watched his arms stretch the fabric so tight it seemed it would tear at any moment. His eyes trailed up to the muscles in his upper shoulders that led to his neck and his defined jaw that sported just a hint of stubble. Bucky marveled at the fact that no sickness could harm him, that no matter how cold the apartment got or how much the cold rain tried to find a way to make his lungs crackle, it wouldn’t work. He’d noticed it since the rescue in Azzano, but this morning was something different. It was like some hidden part of Bucky that he’d forgotten existed was revealed.

“What?” Steve asked, giving a small grin.

“Nothin’.” Bucky shrugged, letting his lips curve up along with. “Just... _ happy. _ ” He said, breathing the last word. There weren’t any nightmares last night, he’d finally confessed he loved Steve just a bit more than he’d let be known (and found the guy he loved felt the same way), knew Steve was fine and  _ he _ was fine and nothing could harm either of them. Just that one word, one adjective, made a full-out smile spread across Steve’s face. Seeing it lifted Bucky even higher, and he knew the Soldier wasn’t capable of feeling such emotions. No, that was all Bucky Barnes himself. 

“Gee, it’s cloudy again. I think I’m gonna sit my ass down and watch movies all day.” Bucky remarked, standing to take his empty bowl to the sink. “And you,” he said, grabbing the front of Steve’s shirt and pulling him close so their foreheads touched. “Are coming with me.”

Steve grinned and leaned in for a small kiss, muttering, “Deal.”

First they finished  _ The Princess Bride _ before transitioning to a movie Steve had already seen and wanted to show Bucky called  _ A League of Their Own _ , ending with the TV series  _ Sherlock _ . By then they were both tired and falling asleep leaning on each other, a kitten happily purring between them. Bucky let Steve take his metal hand (the other occupied petting Lyric), lacing the fingers between his warm flesh ones and gently kissing the top of his head. He snuggled closer, shifting so most of his body weight was resting on Steve as they finished season two.

Bucky realized, looking from his fingers laced with Steve’s to the kitten sitting harmlessly in his lap and resting upon Steve’s head leaning against his own, that Steve was right all along; he wasn’t a machine or some heartless monster. His body was capable of things other than destruction, and thinking back to the previous night he was blissfully aware it was capable of such  _ beautiful _ things Of course, the skinny punk was always the smart one- it figured he was right yet again.

Later that night, with Steve pressed against his back and his arm wrapped protectively over his stomach, Bucky let himself fall into an easy, dark sleep, knowing he was surrounded by nothing but love and comfort and warmth.

  
At least until he was awakened painfully early by paws stepping on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I couldn't have done it without Kennedi (Ravenclaw41) and the adorable, very real kitten named Lyric. Thank you all for reading, I appreciate it a bunch!!!  
> -A


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